


Of Researches and Grudges

by HecoHansen31



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mention of Death, gossiping, prejudices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: When you are partnered for a project with Ivar Lothbrock, you couldn't be more happy.But meeting him in real life will show you a side of him, that is very and truly untollerable.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Reader
Kudos: 31





	Of Researches and Grudges

Life as a researcher in humanistic field could be quite a bitch.

Not only because it didn’t pay all that much and professors constantly stole your best ideas…

… but also, because nobody believed that your work was truly useful.

Once a blind date had commented, speaking about his degree in medicine, that ‘he liked science over humanities because it allowed him to uncover the “truly important secrets” of existence’.

After a lecture on how his own degree wouldn’t have been there without Hippocrates, you had gladly dumped the asshole.

You were well aware that not everybody was that way.

But arrogant assholes who thought they were superior because their degree spelled something ending in ‘-ine’ or ‘-ics’ still existed and they made your life a living hell.

Even worse after you had been paired with Ivar Lothbrok.

You had been paired to work on a research about the ‘Scientific Revolution’ of the 17th century, both from a humanistic and a scientific prospective and, Ivar Lothbrok, barely twenty five year old, was one of the best experts of physics-chemistry in the whole university of Copenhagen.

At first it hadn’t been so bad.

His emails had been quite polite, and you had been absolutely surprised that he had actually researched your writings to look through your own opinion, even complimenting you on some choices in your words and ideas.

But then, you had met him.

And as a true literature expert, you had nicknamed him ‘Scrooge’.

Not a single smile or a compliment was shed by the eternally grumpy researcher and most of the time your ideas were criticized to the point that you had begged your coordinator to drop you off from the entire project.

‘But it is an amazing chance for you!” had replied the man, as he completely ignored your monologue on how ‘awful’ your fellow researcher was ‘… he just needs to warm up to you’.

But in two months you hadn’t even been able to properly talk with your partner about anything that wasn’t your research and in anything else that weren’t ‘huffs’, ‘groans’ and ‘insults’.

Still you had to admit that that night at the bar you had gone a bit too far.

And in the end, it wasn’t exactly your fault.

Hadn’t Ivar treated you like shit, you wouldn’t have certainly gossiped with your friends about his awful personality, just to discover that he was on the opposite seat of the barstool, drinking, alongside his beer, your conversations.

The following Monday, he had come to you and had told you what he had listened and he had been strangely professional, acting as he should have from the start as he explained how damaging your behavior could have been.

‘… we are fellow researchers and it is truly awful to hear those things from another of us’.

He had seemed truly ‘bothered’ by what you had said, although most of it was simply ‘on how much of an awful personality he had’ which was renown to everyone…

… and if you had maybe been a bit more focused on that aspect than your own humiliation at his reprimand, you might have avoided the furious clash of words that had happened between you two.

“… yeah, I am not allowed to vent with my friends about you, in a zone out of university, but you are allowed to constantly annoy me and cuss me out, saying my ideas ‘are shit’ “.

“I did it to your face, at least” he had replied, biting down on his lips, as if he was holding himself back.

But you had had enough.

“That makes it all better” you had spat out as you turned away, delivering him one last look “… honestly I thought you’d be nicer, in your emails you almost seemed… decent”.

And then you had wanted to run away, just for him to grab your hand, turning you violently to look at him in the eyes, as they raged with a vivid fire.

But something dampened it.

Was that insecurity?

“You are hurting me!” you protested, fighting against his grip, as you added ‘psychopath’ to the list of his flaws.

“Listen to me clearly: for you it might be easy to be nice with people, you are a pretty girl … but for me it isn’t…” and he looked down to the braces he wore, something that you had immediately noticed, but hadn’t truly thought about.

You were there to discuss the ‘Scientific Revolution’, not your respective problems.

You certainly were more interested in his involvement in the research, although you were attentive about whether he’d be limping a bit or needing a hand.

But you had never judged him for his inability.

“… when I come face to face with people… I always know what they’ll see first, my legs… and some have pity, which is honestly disgusting…” he pointed out each affirmation with a quick look at his legs “:.. but some aren’t nice, mostly pretty girls like you, who think that they own the world”.

“Don’t even start this fucking dialogue” you shut him quickly with a challenging look, because as much as you understood his pain and anguish, you had also been walked over by the people, exactly like him.

And this didn’t make you act as an asshole.

“:.. I didn’t think anything of your legs when I first met you. I was actually excited to meet the nice person behind the emails and then you dumped here being an asshole”.

“Being an asshole is the only way I can make people respect me” the phrase seemed almost constructed, as if he said it often, but didn’t truly believe it.

“Yeah… it doesn’t really work” you muttered annoyedly, as you managed to break away from his grip “… because people might have been rude to you because of your legs, I understand it, but let me tell you… I don’t think that it is the legs’ fault, anymore… maybe you just scare away people with your big mouth”.

And like that, you had run away, leaving him there.

And this had brought out a major distance to appear between you.

Even more because, not much later than your fight, he had stopped coming to the lab and the library with you, sending his works through emails, which ended up being quite painful for you and made you feel guilty for the words you had told me.

Although you weren’t regretting them, you certainly shouldn’t have gossiped about him in the first place and used another tone, maybe less rageful…

But you hadn’t worried, or at least you hadn’t let your bleeding-heart worry too much about it.

‘He is just licking his wounds, as the true male alpha he is’ you had muttered, rethinking about his awful talk about ‘feeling rejected’ for the way he was.

Everybody got rejected, he might have had it rough, but it wasn’t something that should have made him become an asshole.

He chose to become it.

And then you heard the news.

You were in the canteen, talking with some fellow Humanistic researches as one of your friends asked you whether you had seen Ivar again, since Monday.

‘Actually no, we haven’t exactly… left on the best terms’ you explained lightly, as she sent you a curious look and then proceeded told you the news.

Ivar’s mom, a known philanthropist and ex-teacher of gender studies at your university, had been killed in cold blood during what looked like crossfire in a gang fight.

‘… do you think that Ivar is from some gang?’ your friend had asked you, once the story was finished, as you realized that not solely Ivar had had to go through your poisonous words, but also the death of his mother, in a few days

Gosh, you known didn’t blame him for not wanting to see you and not coming to university.

As your friends gossiped about it all, you couldn’t help but feel awful.

As much as you hated the thought of making the first move in apologizing, you felt like you owed it to him.

And since you were sure he wouldn’t appreciate a simple message about it, you thought about coming to his house with something that might sweeten him up.

As you stopped on the door, you had been extremely insecure.

Although you were partners on a project you certainly hadn’t the best relationship, and you didn’t put it past him to throw you out or close the door right on your face.

But at least you could say to yourself that you had tried.

And you knocked.

It wasn’t Ivar who answered the door.

A boy with shaggy hair, a bit older than Ivar but clearly a relative, opened it on your face. with a charming smile as he asked you ‘if you were an angel fallen from heaven’.

You immediately blushed, thinking that it was the wrong house (although the address Ivar had given you for emergencies had brought you to a beautiful and picturesque house, definitely the type somebody like Ivar would live in) but behind him you heard an ushered voice asking who was inside.

And a few moments later Ivar appeared over his shoulder.

You couldn’t help but be nervous, as a mixture or surprise and then annoyance settled onto Ivar’s face, as you mumbled a simple ‘hey’.

“You know each other?” asked the older man, as he shot a malicious grin to Ivar, who just raised his eyes to the sky as if to say ‘God spare me’, which made you lightly giggle.

It was nice to know he wasn’t an asshole only with you.

“Research partner” he explained, and the man’s eyes brightened.

“Gosh, then you must be (Y/N)! Ivar honestly pestered us about you for an entire week, he was so excited to work with you!”.

You had definitely not expected that.

And from the light blush on Ivar’s face, you weren’t supposed to ever find ou about it.

“… it’s nice to know” you tried to make the conversation less awkward possible “… your brother is also an amazing people work with”.

Ivar sent you a look as if to say ‘what?’, but Hvitserk was too worried about what you were holding in your hands to properly see his brother’s cheeks flaming with shyness, recognizing the small basket as filled with cookies.

“Is that a freshly-baked batch of cookies?” he asked curiously, sniffing the sweets, as he welcomed you immediately inside, getting a small glare from Ivar, as he suggested you two took the kitchen to talk “… but I take the cookies”.

“Don’t eat them all, little shit” reprimanded him Ivar, before leading you to the kitchen, a bit too silently than he was usually, but you tried not to force anything on him, as you sat in front of each other.

But neither of you looked the other in the eyes.

“Is there something wrong with the research?” he finally managed to ask after a small awkward silence “… I haven’t had an easy … , I am sure you know it…”.

“No, the research is going well, and I’d understand it if you wanted to take… some time” you explained softly, but he just shook his head.

“It helps me… staying focused on something, about not thinking about it”.

And you couldn’t completely blame him.

“I just wanted to check on you” better to get it out of your chest.

“That’s nice, but I don’t think you should have bothered yourself” his voice was harsh, but it had lost much of its original bit and as you lightly raised your head to meet his eyes, finding him not only shying away from you but also honestly pained “… I hope I’ll feel better soon and I’ll be able to come back to university”.

“Don’t force yourself” you tried to calm him, as he raised his head to your soft tone “… I can ask for an extended period…”.

“Don’t worry” his tone was defeated “… but thank you”.

It all made you feel worse for the thing.

“… I am sorry for what I told you” you tried to say lightly, but he just shushed you with a quick look.

“I don’t think that you were wrong, I was an asshole with you fr no reason…” he replied lightly and as his eyes met yours, you understood that he wasn’t lying to you, he was honestly guilty and sad about what he had said to you.

“… still my tone wasn’t proper, and I shouldn’t have been gossiping you”,

“Honestly… what you said was quite… tame” he mumbled, letting out an unconvinced laugh “… I have heard worse”.

“People aren’t nice” you tried replying, but he just shook his head.

“I hope you won’t find this rude to say, but I’d say that you haven’t many people who won’t treat you nice in your life”.

And you shot him a lighter look.

“… you weren’t very nice with me” you replied lightly, making him laugh under a hand “… but believe me being a researcher isn’t the easiest position to have as a girl, you’ll get constantly undermined and annoyed…”.

“That sounds awful” he was honest, as he offered you a light comforting look “… although you are quite… annoying … you are pretty smart”.

“I’ll take that as a compliment” you mumbled lightly.

“Take that as you want” he replied scrappily, and he moved to get up, evidently it all being a bit too much for you.

“I am sorry for her” you blurted out “I didn’t personally know her, but…”.

“She didn’t deserve to die like that” he spoke with extreme confidence “… she was a wonderful woman”.

“Let me know if I can do something for you” you said, as you also got up from your chair, taking his sudden restless behavior as your cue to leave “… now I’ll leave you, alone…”.

_“I don’t want to be alone right now”_ he spoke, lightly as if he was too used to people telling him so “… my brothers didn’t care about her so much, and I feel like I am the only one who is bearing the weight of her loss”.

“I am…” you were surprised at how raw he had allowed himself to be to a stranger.

Maybe it was because of that.

“… sorry for the outburst…” he mumbled, as he gently shot you one look, before he settled himself more properly on his legs “… you honestly have had to deal too much with my bullshit, already”.

“… have you left the house, lately?” you asked, more out of the spur of the moment than anything else.

You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, but it wasn’t definitely out of pity or guilt.

But it was awful to see him like that, so deep in sadness.

You knew how much sadness wasn’t easy to deal with, mostly when you hadn’t anybody to support you.

You still didn’t know if you might be the most suited company for him.

But Ivar definitely had given you some utter truth.

And maybe you hadn’t also done your best to understand him.

“… I haven’t” he mumbled lightly “… I have had to organize all the funereal and other things…”.

“Do you have a bit of off time from all of this?” you asked him softly.

“… maybe” he looked at you with suspicion in his eyes “… why?”

_“Let’s do something crazy”._

\---

And with something crazy you meant bringing Ivar to your favorite coffee place, a small hybrid between an abandoned book shop and a student coffee.

You led him through the various tables, choosing your favorite ones, beside an old piano and a trembling column of books.

“I don’t want to sound like an assholish physics researcher but this scream ‘boho artist’ “.

“I’ll, again, take that as a compliment” you mumbled, pushing a light menu from the trembling column of books as Ivar sent you a worried look “… and don’t worry they are glued together to be that way”.

“Isn’t it, violence against books?” he humored you.

“But you have to admit it is pretty” you replied, with a childish tone that made him smirk, lightly “… try the caffemisù, it is one of my favorite things”.

He sent you a confused look as if he wasn’t used to such a relationship and you shot him a light smirk.

“You are bossy” he added.

“… it is just the way I was born” you mumbled absented-mindedly as he gave you an honest smile.

“I like it” he surprised you as you quickly raised your head from the menu to send him a confused look “… it was fun to fight with you”.

“So, you did it on purpose” you angrily asked, before erupting in laughter “… you are indeed a psycho”.

“My brother Sigurd says the same”.

The waitress disrupted your conversation, asking for your orders, as Ivar did order what you had suggested and you a hot cocoa.

“… what Hvitserk said is true” he mumbled as he kept his eyes on the menu “… I did look forward to work with you”.

“I am sorry…” you tried to apologize “… I am sorry I made it…”.

“I am the one who should apologize” again he was honest, raising lightly his eyes to meet yours “… I just… I overreacted, assuming that just because you were so nice and beautiful…”.

“You think I am beautiful?”.

Now he was blushing adorably and was spared from further humiliation by the waitress who gave you your orders, as you thanked her, because Ivar looked like he was calming himself down from an ‘overheating problem’.

“… mom would have dreaded my behavior with you” he mumbled lightly “… she might have doted upon me, but she would have ducked me across the face had she known about it”.

“I could still slap you your face” you proposed, with a light smirk and Ivar laughed sadly “… but you are forgiven, if you promise to avoid insulting me for the rest of the research”.

“I never insulted you!” he retorted.

“… and what do you call, saying I was ‘an idiot?”.

“… pushing you to do your best”.

You both erupted in laughter, immediately attracting the looks of the fellow tables, as an old lady looked at her husband, muttering ‘what a cute couple’.

Which got you both to blush.

“… we can start again” you proposed “Hi, I am (Y/N), researcher of humanistic subjects”.

“Hi, I am Ivar, researcher of scientific subjects” he played along, grasping lightly your hand.

And you couldn’t help but blush under those perfect blue eyes.

It was good to start again.


End file.
